


never the same

by havisham



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: We will never be the same again. But here’s a little secret for you—no one is ever the same thing again after anything. You are never the same twice, and much of your unhappiness comes from trying to pretend that you are. Accept that you are different each day, and do so joyfully, recognizing it for the gift it is. Work within the desires and goals of the person you are currently, until you aren’t that person anymore, and everything changes once again.Welcome to Night Vale, Episode 75.Post Season Three Finale, Martin grapples with the changes to both the Institute, himself, and his relationship with Jon. He also drinks copious amounts of tea.





	never the same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dallisons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dallisons/gifts).



> Hi dallisons, I hope you like this! I tried to work in your like of people finding each other after a long time apart and they aren’t the same people but they fit together better somehow -- I think that fits post Season Three Martin and Jon to the T.

 

 

 

 

Martin had marked the day on his calendar: the day Jon was going to return to work. He knew about what had happened to Elias — at least, Martin thought he knew, even if he himself hadn’t told Jon so, hadn’t even thought of going to see him in the hospital. There were still statements to read — Peter had been particularly insistent that Martin continue to record them, which...— fair shakes. No one else could be expected to do so, since Jon was out of commission, Basira and Melanie were still on leave, and Tim and Daisy … Well, perhaps it was better not to think about Tim or Daisy. 

The electric kettle whistled and clicked off. The water was ready. Martin made tea carefully, concentrating on the ritual of it. Of course, tea wouldn’t make the situation better, but it also didn’t make it worse. In a fit of adventurousness, he picked one of the teas Tim had brought in some time ago. It wasn’t even proper tea — it was a tisane or something. Hibiscus cinnamon raspberry crush with lingonberry notes, Martin read on the package. 

Come to think of it, hadn’t Tim been a coffee drinker, mostly?

No. This wouldn’t do. Martin abandoned Tim’s tea and reached for his own. As it brewed, reliably dark, he tried to steady his nerves. The Archives were so quiet with everyone gone. It was easy to believe that the Apocalypse had happened and he was the only person left in the world. He tried not to dwell on it. He’d returned to work early from the Peter-mandated time off, first to welcome Jon back to the Archives, if he should come back, and also … 

Well, the damn statements. Someone had to read them, apparently. 

The statement Martin had for today was one from Drax Plunkett, given on March 7th, 2013. Mr. Plunkett had been on a coach bus going from Paris to Milan when, in the middle of the night, he had encountered a strange seatmate who seemed to be very much dead. 

Martin read out Mr. Plunkett’s statement in a steady drone, pausing only momentarily at the especially gruesome bit where the dead seatmate caused the bus to crash in an alpine tunnel, killing the driver and most of the other passengers except the statement giver. Which one of the powers was this for? He’d assumed it was for… Death, whatever it was called, but hadn’t Jon read a few that involved horrific transportation crashes underground? Hadn’t those been for … Martin glanced down at his notes. No, it wasn’t probably wasn’t simply called DIG. 

He gave up on trying to classify it. That was Jon’s job, probably, had been Elias’ -- whoever was the one who listened to all the statements and made sense of them. Was that Peter’s job now? Whoever that was, it wasn’t Martin. All he had to do was read aloud. That was it.. Elias was — taken care of. Martin had done that, even when no one thought he could. 

He’d changed. It wasn’t a bad thing, really. He hoped this new, bolder Martin stuck around. Maybe he should take this opportunity to speak to his landlord about fixing some of the damage that the worms had wrought on the door of his flat. Really, he should try to move to a new place…

Meanwhile, Mr. Plunkett’s tribulations continued. He staggered away from the crashed bus, his horrific seatmate now in hot pursuit. Martin frowned. Really, what kind of name was Drax? He sounded like an asshole. But that was unkind. Really, Mr. Plunkett had had a hell of a time down there. And Martin knew from past experience that tunnels could be… unpleasant. As the statement ended and Martin dutifully reported his follow-up research — of course, Mr. Plunkett had refused any additional comments, and while the media reports surrounding the Euroride coach crash was roughly consistent with his story, none of the other survivors had remembered the dead seatmate at all. 

All and all, a very typical sort of statement of this kind. Whatever kind it happened to be. 

Just as he finished recording, Martin heard a soft knock at the door. For a moment, he turned, happy for the interruption. He half-expected to see Melanie or Basira there, however impossible it might be, but instead it was Peter. 

Peter smiled in spite of Martin’s surely crestfallen expression. 

“How are you holding up, Martin? Sorry I had to call you back in early. I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans?” 

“My trip to Switzerland’s completely shot, boss,” Martin muttered and Peter gave him a puzzled, but benign, look. If Peter stood at this distance, the static that seemed to follow him around wasn’t nearly as bad — a low hum of something disturbing rather than an unbearable scream inside Martin’s brain. Still, it was a little hard to think. “Uh, no. I’m fine.” 

“Good! Jon will be coming back today, so you won’t have to do more of these — unless Jon would like you to?” 

Martin stared at him blankly. It had honestly never occurred to him that Jon returning meant that he wouldn’t have to read the statements. That should be a relief. No, it _was_ a relief. Statements were intensely draining to read and they never, ever had happy endings. Even for the people were still, ostensibly, alive after their ordeal. 

“I … don’t know?” 

Peter nodded. “Very good, Martin. Keep up the good work.” 

*

The thing about Jon was that Martin was completely in love with him. And being in love really _sucked_. 

Martin felt like an idiot for thinking of it like that, but it was true. Love, without a doubt, was the single worst feeling in the world. Especially if the person who you loved didn’t even know about it, much less love you back. 

Now, he couldn't quite pick out the exact moment he had fallen in love with Jon. It wasn't as if working with Jon exactly _invited_ romance — it didn't. It was hard work, getting to know him and then getting to like him. Jon just wasn't an easy person to be around. 

That said, Martin had fallen in love with him fairly quickly. 

But that was fairly typical for him. Martin had a habit of falling in love quickly and falling out just as quickly. The record had been when, at age sixteen, he'd fallen deeply in lust with another boy in his summer maths class, whose name he had never learned. The only thing he remembered was how the boy had looked in his jeans, compact and tight, and how his light brown hair curled around the nape of his neck, red from the summer sun. Martin had felt hot all over his body, just looking at him. This was love, he had been sure of it. 

Then the boy had turned around and Martin felt any lust he had turn quickly into ash. There was nothing wrong with the boy's face, per se, it just wasn't _right._ And not the _spooky_ not-right. No. He just didn’t appeal. Martin was no longer in love. 

Maybe that made him shallow? Martin hoped not. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't exactly the best looking guy ever. He wasn’t like Tim, handsome and knowing it. The best thing that could be said about him was that he was largely inoffensive, maybe pleasant looking in a pinch. 

Even as he knew that -- even though he was no longer a shallow sixteen year old, Martin trusted in appearances too much. At least, he had until he started working for the Magnus Institute and learned exactly deceiving looks could be. Every little thing, no matter how harmless it seemed, could potentially kill you. It wasn’t enough to judge based on looks. 

Martin had to learn how to observe. There was even a kind of pleasure to it. 

While he was living in the Archives, Martin had had a lot of time to observe — Jon. The thing about Jon was that he was mostly oblivious to things that weren't directly in front of him or literally giving him the information he needed. He hadn’t noticed Martin’s developing feelings at all, though he absolutely had noticed when Martin carelessly left unwashed tea mugs out on the bookshelves. 

“God’s sake, Martin, this isn't your living room, don't treat it like it,” Jon had barked after the fourth time. 

Martin had cringed at both his own careless actions and Jon’s tone. “Sorry, Jon. I thought I heard something — no, no, that’s an excuse. It won’t happen again.” 

Jon had looked at him curiously. “What did you hear?” 

“Uh. Something?” It was quite rare for Jon to make eye contact. It'd rattled Martin, somewhat. Behind the glare of the light of his glasses, Jon’s gaze had been intense, far more than it should’ve been. 

“Sometimes,” Martin had confessed, “I think I hear things — you know, underneath. But it’s nothing, I’m sure! I don’t want to worry you.” Especially when Jon seemed to have taken it upon himself to worry about everything. It couldn’t be good for him, that. Martin wished, more than anything, that he could help him. 

Jon had broken eye contact first. He sighed gustily. “Martin. Do you mind making a cup of tea for me?” 

“Yes, of course! I mean, of course, I don’t mind. I’d love to. Excuse me,” Martin said, bolting out of the room before he made a complete tit of himself. He didn’t need to ask how Jon liked it. Black with exactly one sugar packet, stirred four times. 

He'd then run straight into Tim, which was just his luck. Tim wanted Martin to go out with him and Sasha for beer after work, which was impossible. Looking back on it, Martin wished he’d taken him up on that offer. But how was he to to know that in a few short weeks, Sasha would be dead and Tim (and himself, it was true) would be completely changed? 

*

He could feel it, when Jon came back. 

The Archives _felt_ different when the Archivist was there. The air shifted, became — not heavier, but more portentous. Like everything was waiting for Jon. Like everything _depended_ on him. Martin debated whether he should seek Jon out. Before, he would have. No doubt about it. He hadn't known how to play it cool — especially not around Jon. 

But maybe he should? 

Then again, there was no one here except him and possibly Peter. And Martin did not want Jon to meet Peter unprepared. He got out of his chair, clutching his tea mug. All right. He would just step out and rinse out his mug. If he should run into Jon, that was fine. If he didn’t — well, that was less fine, but he would deal with it. 

With that decided, Martin set off — to find Jon. 

*

Jon’s hair was greyer than it had been before. His shoulders were slumped down in apparent exhaustion. He wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore and his face looked incomplete without them. When he caught sight of Martin, he nodded to himself. “Martin,” he began to say, but Martin rushed towards him and put a hand over his mouth. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin said, as he pulled Jon into the closest closet - he could pretend they had a modicrum of privacy there, even though he knew it wasn’t true. “I know it’s sudden, but everyone’s gone. Elias got arrested. Melanie and Basira are out for a few more weeks. Tim and Daisy are …”

“I know. Wait. What what was that about Elias?” 

“It’s complicated. I doubt he’ll be gone long, but there’s his replacement, Peter. Peter Lukas, you know, the weird captain guy? He’s here now. Dead friendly, but if you get too close to him, it feels like your brain’s dribbling out of your ears. Um. So, how are you, by the way? Sorry I couldn’t visit you at the hospital. Things were strangely busy here.” 

Jon was studying him curiously. With a twinge of dread, Martin wondered if he had something stuck between his teeth or something. “What is it?” 

“Martin, has something happened to you?” 

“No? Why?” 

“You seem different, that’s all.” 

“Well,” Martin said, trying to channel a little bit of Elias’ coolness. “If you really want to know, Jon, you should _ask_ me.” 

Jon flinched away as if he he’d been hit. Immediately, Martin regretted it. He couldn’t be Elias and really he didn’t want to be. Fuck. He’d messed things up, again. “Sorry, sorry, things have been a little— I don’t really know how much you know… You know? Do you listen to every tape? Can you?” 

“Elias listens — listened to them. I can — I can get people to speak to me, and they have to tell the truth. Obviously, I can’t hear everything that’s recorded. Are you really saying Peter Lukas is our new boss?” 

“Well, yes. I wanted to warn you before you met him, about the brain melty thing. I think it might be worse for you, somehow.” 

Jon pressed his lips together. “I see. That’s … fine. Thank you, Martin.” 

“No problem.” 

“Could you let go of my hand now?” 

Martin looked down. He was clutching Jon’s hand fairly hard, as if he was afraid that someone was going to snatch him away. He let go of Jon. “Oh! Sorry about that.” 

“That’s fine,” Jon said as he turned to leave. But before he did so, he paused. “Martin?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you for helping me. I know I’m not the most easy… person to deal with, but you’ve always been kind. Thank you.” 

It was Martin’s turn to stare. Who was this person and what he had done to Jon? Carefully, he reached out and tugged on Jon’s face, looking for any sign of looseness. 

“Hey! Stop that! I’m not a bloody mannequin, Martin!”

“Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London? Jon would _never_ have said that to me.” 

“What kind of myopic jerk do you think I am?” Jon asked indignantly. 

“Please, next thing you know, you’ll say that you know that I’m in love with you. Haha!” Martin laughed but judging from the dumbfounded look on Jon’s face, he probably shouldn’t have. “Oh... shit.” 

“Uh — we’ll talk about this later. I’m not an evil mannequin! I’m — I have to go do a recording. Could you finish up here?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah, of course.”

Jon closed the closet door behind him with a thud. 

Martin allowed himself a few therapeutic screams before he let himself out of the closet. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but he swore to himself that it was going to be the last. 

*

“Statement of Claudia Ito, regarding a geocaching expedition in Otaru, Japan, and the recovery of certain antiquities resulting from it. Original statement given on December 15th, 2017. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. 

Statement begins. 

Since I was a little girl, I’ve always dreamed of finding buried treasure — Hm. Is that you, Martin?” 

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know you were recording in here. I’ll come back.” 

“No, it’s all right.” Jon stopped the recording. They eyed each other warily. “Do you… want to come in?” 

“No, I’d rather just hover at the door, if that’s all right? Rosie told me that you had a package and I thought I’d bring it to you.” Martin offered him a slim, cardboard box plastered with various shipping labels, which Jon took. “I think they must be your replacement glasses. Actually, how are you reading the statement without them?” 

Jon blinked. “I don’t think I really need my glasses anymore. Not for the statements.” 

“Oh. Weird.” 

Jon opened up the box and paused. “Martin. You don’t have to hover. You can stay, if you want.” 

“Oh? All right, I will.” Martin set up his things in the desk beside Jon’s. Somehow, after Elias had gone, a lot more paperwork had suddenly shown up in his workspace. It seemed that Peter wasn’t willing to fill out requisition forms as a matter of course… 

Jon frowned. “Come to think of it, I didn’t order a replacement for my glasses. Did you?” 

“Of course not, I don’t know your prescription,” Martin said, as all hell broke loose. 

*

Hindsight was always 20/20, but Martin had to admit, he should’ve seen this one coming. As soon as Jon opened the box, the small office was filled with faceless spectors that seemed _really_ intent on eating their eyeballs or something. He and Jon had managed to beat them back and escape to the hall, holding the door closed behind them. But there was still the problem of how to get rid of them. 

And while Martin really wanted to stop babbling out apologies for his lack of thought at Jon, he couldn’t quite seem to do it. 

“Martin,” Jon said abruptly, “could you please shut up? It was very stupid of you to accept the package, but I shouldn’t have opened it either. We’re both at fault.” 

“Yes, we’re both idiots,” Martin said, putting his whole weight against the door of the recording office. A terribly thin, white hand slipped through the gap under the door. Martin stamped on it and the thing let out a low wail. 

“Oh, hello, Jon, Martin. I’m glad I could catch you both here,” said a now-familiar voice behind them, along with a very familiar crackle of static in the air. Martin turned to see Peter looking at them with a friendly smile on his face. Martin had seen Peter several times now, but even so, he would be hard-pressed to describe his new boss. Peter had a face, he knew that, with the ordinary amount of eyes, mouth, nose, and everything else. It was simply that nothing about him _stuck._

Jon was staring at him, however, like it did stick. Martin wondered what that was about. 

“I’m Peter Lukas,” Peter said, extending his hand to Jon. 

“Oh, yes. _You_ ,” Jon said, “I think we’ve met before? Maybe? Look, could you get rid of this thing? I need to record a statement now, or I’ll get the shakes or something.” 

“Oh! Sure,” Peter said. “Martin, if you don’t mind?” 

Martin thought about protesting. He wasn’t sure why Jon thought Peter would be able to get rid of the thing on the other side of the door, but his shoulder was getting pretty sore. He stepped aside and let Peter go through. The door closed behind him and there was a loud scream that seemed to echo through the halls for a long moment.

Jon sighed and reached to adjust his glasses, before he realized they weren’t there. He gave Martin an exasperated look. “I really do need to order a new pair, though. I don’t really need them for the statements, but I’m blind as a bat otherwise.” 

“Right,” Martin said. “Well, I can pick it up for you when they’re ready.” 

“You don’t have to — ” 

Just then, Peter opened the door and told them cheerfully that the problem had been taken care of. 

“Right, well,” Martin said. “Does anyone want some tea?” 

“Oh, I don’t like tea,” Peter said and Martin nearly hissed at him. 

*

They fell into a little bit of a pattern after that. Martin thought Peter would want to spend more time with Jon, familiarizing him with the new order, but it really didn’t seem like it. Instead, he and Jon spent more time together. It made sense, after all, as Martin was all that was left of the archival assistants— for now. 

His gran always said that those who did, always _had_ to do, and that was about the right of it. But really, Martin didn’t mind the extra work. It was helpful, actually, to work so much that he didn’t have to think about Sasha or Tim, or Daisy, or his mother… 

It was almost like being back to normal, whatever normal was. So, of course, it couldn’t last. 

He hadn’t thought his haphazard love confession would have penetrated through to Jon’s self-absorption, but perhaps he simply wasn’t giving him enough credit. Jon, whatever his faults, was _very_ good at listening. 

“Martin,” he said abruptly one day. Martin looked up from his laptop curiously. They’d been working quietly for almost an hour now, and he’d almost forgotten Jon was there. 

“I’m not— ” Jon said. “I’m not good at dating. People have told me that I am, alternatively, a disaster of a boyfriend, a bad kisser and a terrible lay and all together a mistake to date. And, frankly, that has never bothered me. Georgie is probably the only person I’ve dated who is still friends with me, and now that I think about it, the fact that she can no longer feel fear probably has something do with it. Being involved with me means a lot of danger for not a lot of reward. I would, personally, not recommend being in love with me at all.” 

“Ah. Okay,” Martin said. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say to all of that. “Hold on, have you been saving that since — uh, you came back?” 

Jon wasn’t looking at him, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks, which Martin couldn’t help but find extremely charming. He pushed his laptop aside and stood up. Jon turned his head, curious as to what he was going to do. 

What Martin did was carefully take off Jon’s glasses and put them to the side, and then kiss Jon — thoroughly, deeply and in a way he’d always longed to do. Jon had been right to say he was a bad kisser, but it didn’t matter. 

When Martin pulled away, Jon was staring at him. 

“Look,” Martin said, “I know all that— well, not about you being a terrible lay, but I suspected as much. I know this is probably a mistake and I’ll probably die or something horrible will happen to us, or you’ll become a giant, lidless eye, watching over Mordor. But I do love you, and I want to be with you, even if it’s for a little while.”

“That’s… quite tragic, Martin.” 

“I know,” Martin said, going back to work. “But is it all right with you?” 

“I suppose,” Jon said. “But remember, per Institute rules, there’s no fraternization during work hours.” 

“Right, wouldn’t want HR asking questions,” Martin replied. He would laugh, but he was fairly certain Jon was being serious. 

(He was.) 

**Author's Note:**

> In the tradition of the podcast, the statement givers are named after Edward Drax Plunkett (Lord Dunsany) and Junji Ito. Mr. Plunkett's adventure is based on [The Upper Berth](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/22246/22246-h/22246-h.htm), except I switched out the fancy ocean liner for a coach bus.


End file.
